Damp of the Haze
by Esperata
Summary: Spock and McCoy are gifted a dose of Fesarian powder. This has no effect whatsoever. To begin with...
1. Come To Grief

Captain Kirk felt the mission had been an unqualified success.

Of course Spock and McCoy had argued almost the entire time – about everything from what the Vulcan could eat to the sociological solution for the natives – but the crew of the Enterprise were used to that and hardly even noticed anymore.

The only time he'd had to interrupt was when he'd been having trouble hearing his conversation partner at dinner – but then the Fesarians were very softly spoken.

And now they were all saying farewell, going back to the Enterprise with Dave Bailey in tow. The Lieutenant was far more relaxed and confident than when Kirk left him with Balok and Jim felt this was the icing on the cake of their present mission.

Kirk snapped his attention back onto their diminutive hosts, Linnik and Dassik, as they approached with wide smiles.

"We offer our thanks again for all your officers have done for our people."

Jim smiled widely in return.

"All in a day's work. I'm just glad we arrived in time."

"Indeed," Linnik nodded. "We were fortunate Lieutenant Bailey was with us to contact you."

"After all you've done for me," Dave replied, "it was the least I could do."

"We learnt from each other," Dassik replied warmly. "And speaking of such…" He turned to look up at the two science officers. "We bring you a gift, for all you accomplished."

"No gift is required," Spock spoke simply. "We were simply fulfilling our duty."

"You don't owe us anything but a promise to keep out of trouble in the future," McCoy added with a pleased bounce.

Jim privately thought getting them to agree on that much was all the gift he could ask for.

"But we wish to aid you as you have aided us," Dassik pressed.

"Because of your efforts our future is bright once more. We wish to offer you the same," Lannik agreed.

"Well…" Bones glanced to the captain who gave a slight nod. "In that case we'd be honoured."

"Excellent!" Lannik clapped his hands in delight and Dassik pulled out a small box from his robes. He opened it and held it up.

"Please, this powder will light your future."

McCoy eyed it warily as Spock surreptitiously scanned it.

"How's it do that?" Bones tried not to sound ungrateful.

"You inhale it," Dassik replied, apparently not understanding the confusion.

McCoy was about to rephrase his question when Spock interrupted.

"The powder is not harmful Doctor. It appears completely inert. I expect the significance is traditional rather than practical."

McCoy glared at the Vulcan.

"Don't insult our hosts Mister Spock," he hissed.

Spock blinked.

"I meant no disrespect for your customs," he spoke to the Fesarians honestly.

"No insult taken," Lannik waved the apology away as Dassik raised the box closer to the officers.

Spock didn't hesitate but reached in and took a pinch of dust. Carefully raising it to his nose he inhaled deeply. The crew held their breath as they watched him.

Seconds later he turned to McCoy and said,

"There is no discernible scent or immediate effect. I believe my initial analysis to be correct."

With a final glare at the Vulcan, McCoy took a generous pinch and swiftly inhaled it. If pressed, he would have to admit that Spock was apparently correct.

Dassik put the box away and final goodbyes were offered.

As the crew dematerialised, McCoy's final view was of the two grinning cherub-like faces of the Fesarians.

* * *

It wasn't that McCoy didn't trust Spock. Not at all. It was just that one couldn't be too careful when dealing with alien cultures and mysterious powders.

That was why, shortly after they all returned to the ship, he locked himself in a private examination room and ran every test on himself that he could think of.

There were no abnormal results.

He ran a couple of tests again before deciding he was being paranoid and Spock had probably been correct. Like as not the powder was part of a traditional ritual with no scientific basis. Much like mistletoe on Earth.

Damned if he'd admit that to the Vulcan though.

* * *

It wasn't that Spock doubted his initial assessment, only that it was logical to prove it beyond doubt. There were other examples of seemingly innocuous substances having a deleterious effect after all.

That was why, as soon as he finished his shift on the bridge, he retreated to his quarters and began a focused meditation. He examined his internal self detail by detail.

There were no differences to usual.

As he rose from his mat he was perfectly satisfied that his initial conclusion was in fact correct. He wondered briefly how the powder came to symbolically 'light your future'. Probably through some illogical explanation as so many Earth traditions.

He decided to ask the doctor if he could come up with an explanation.


	2. Anger

In point of fact, it wasn't until the next day at lunch that Spock saw the doctor.

Spock had spent his evening engaged in a chess match with the captain and then Bones had been occupied all morning with routine physicals – a seemingly never ending task given over four hundred crewmen all needing check-ups once every three months. At least the majority of those could be covered by the nurses or he'd never leave sickbay.

As Spock noticed the doctor enter the messhall he considered how best to phrase his enquiry.

Jim saw McCoy as well and waved him over.

"Bones!"

The doctor grinned as he saw them and headed over with his tray.

"Morning Jim. Spock."

"It is no longer morning, Doctor," Spock pointed out immediately.

"It's before lunch ain't it?" McCoy shot back. "That makes it morning in my book."

"To the majority of the ship however, it remains afternoon."

McCoy shot a 'save-me-from-pedantic-Vulcans' look at Jim.

"Guess there's no need to ask if he's feeling any effect of that powder. He's acting just as annoying as usual."

Jim frowned at him which confused the doctor somewhat but he was immediately distracted by Spock.

"I was meaning to ask you about that very subject Doctor."

"Oh?" Spock had McCoy's undivided attention now. "Feeling some effects?"

"I am troubled by no more feelings than usual-"

"Which is to say none," McCoy interrupted with a scoff. Spock merely arched an eyebrow at him.

"I was however curious whether you had any theory of the powder's symbolic origins. Given the wealth of Terran myths with inexplicable and illogical significances."

"Gentlemen-" Jim spoke unusually cautiously and neither man paid him any heed.

"Just 'cause something doesn't have a _logical_ explanation don't mean it's valueless."

"I did not say that… although the 'value' of the Fesarian powder could certainly be debated."

"I know what you were gettin' at Spock. For a race priding itself on _infinite diversity_ you don't half enjoy disparaging my cultural traditions."

"Whiskey cannot be considered a cultural tradition."

"Gentlemen!" Kirk's voice carried an unquestionable urgency now and both men looked at him. "You're glowing!"

Both officers simultaneously blinked before turning and looking at each other.

As they finally brought their attention back to their surroundings, two pairs of eyes widened in undeniable surprise.

Although 'glowing' was an inaccurate term, it was obvious what the captain was referring to. Each man was surrounded by a shimmering, glitter cloud. As if a cloud of tiny water particles were catching light to produce a rainbow.

Except the colour was different around each of them.

McCoy was sat amid a ruby red haze while Spock's was emerald green. They were drifting together in a cloud rising above the table, reminiscent of old Earth fireworks.

"What the hell?" McCoy gaped.

"Fascinating," Spock commented. "I would have to conclude this is linked to our partaking of the Fesarian powder."

"The powder you declared had no practical application?" McCoy glared.

"Bones," Jim admonished swiftly before switching into Captain mode. "It started forming while you sat here. At first I thought it was my eyes playing tricks but it got stronger until…" he gestured. His hand waving dispersed the mist causing it to dissipate further.

"It is being cleared by the air management system," Spock noted.

"But where did it come from?" McCoy wondered, watching the sparkles fade.

"I think you two better head to the lab and run some tests," Jim ordered.

"I already ran a bunch of tests!"

"Really Doctor?" That damned eyebrow rose again. "You were not satisfied with my initial analysis?"

"And it looks like I was right to have doubts doesn't it?" McCoy challenged. "Unless you believe it's a coincidence we're lighting up like sparklers after sniffing some damn alien powder."

"As I recall it was you who suggested we should not insult our hosts by refusing."

"I meant don't insult them by accusing their customs of being pointless!"

"I did not accuse them-"

"Ah gentlemen?" Jim interrupted for the third time in a tone of deep amusement. His officers looked around to see that their colourful mist had returned.

"God dammit," Bones muttered, pushing himself up.

"I believe it would be prudent to investigate promptly, Doctor," Spock suggested as he too stood. McCoy eyed him speculatively but then simply nodded and led the way out. Spock followed with a brief nod to Jim

Jim sat and eyed the mist thoughtfully. Then a broad grin split his face.

This could get interesting.


	3. Denial

By the time they got to the lab, McCoy was decidedly **not** talking to Spock.

On the journey down they'd had an argument over the wisdom of accepting gifts from relatively unknown alien cultures. Although Spock was sure he'd begun that conversation supporting the trusting nature of Starfleet procedural regulations, he'd found himself somewhat illogically arguing against it by the time they reached the lab.

Either way, by the time they reached the facilities to test the strange phenomena, it had completely dissipated.

With only a curt suggestion that Spock should go over his initial test results, McCoy headed over to the terminal furthest away and began to research any reports of similar strange effects from inhaling powders.

Spock didn't press the doctor, knowing from experience that the bad mood would not last overly long. Instead he began to review McCoy's own examination results as directed.

As expected there was nothing untoward.

Spock frowned slightly as he perused the list of tests and results. While he was admiring of thoroughness, this seemed excess.

"Doctor, why did you consider it necessary to administer two prostate exams?"

McCoy tensed and Spock could see his embarrassed flush from across the room.

"I was being thorough," he snapped back. "You'll note I did three blood pressure tests, but you didn't choose to question that!"

"It is logical to repeat such a test that will present variations in results due to external stimulus such as stress."

"Well maybe I wanted to double check there wasn't a fault in the equipment."

"Then you would have run a diagnostic on the equipment rather than a repeat experiment on your prostate."

"Can we please stop discussing my prostate?" the doctor all but begged.

Spock was about to query whether McCoy had in fact had any particular reason for suspecting that particular gland, when he noticed the haze.

He seized an entrapment pump from a nearby surface and advanced swiftly.

"What the hell!" McCoy backed away suddenly until he was pressed against the counter top. It took him several moments to realise the Vulcan wasn't actually advancing on _him_.

He watched silently as Spock sucked up a quantity of the mist for analysis. It wasn't until the Vulcan finally had a sufficient amount, that he realised he'd practically cornered the doctor.

"My apologies," he said swiftly. "I did not want to risk the air filters removing the substance before we could collect a sample."

"Uh-huh," McCoy nodded. "I got that." A grin slowly spread across his face. "Perhaps you should get another collecting jar for your green version?"

Spock glanced up from the human and realised a green haze was in fact gathering about him.

He didn't reply verbally but moved to follow the doctor's suggestion. Soon they had two containers holding green or red sparkling mist.

"Right." McCoy clapped his hands together. "Time to get analysing. Who knows how long it'll take the computer to figure out just what this hokey powder is."

Spock had already started by running a tricorder over the red jar to record as much as possible in case the substance disappeared before analysis. He arched an eyebrow in surprise.

The doctor noticed immediately and frowned.

"What is it Spock? What's the tricorder show?"

Spock hesitated before replying and instead ran his tricorder over the green jar to confirm his new hypothesis. This apparently produced the same result.

He coughed in an unusually awkward gesture.

"Well?" McCoy demanded irritably.

"The mist is essentially pheromones Doctor," he announced.

"Pheromones." McCoy repeated numbly. Spock nodded.

"Pheromones treated with what may be likened to a coloured dye. How the powder combined in our bodies to produce this effect is still unknown. However I would speculate that our blood was involved in some manner, given the unique colouration."

"Pheromones treated with a dye? They gave us a goddamn barium meal for our hormones?"

"Although the technical details of your statement are incorrect, the analogy is appropriate."

McCoy glared at the offending jars.

"How long do you suppose this effect will last?" he groused.

"Unclear. Without knowledge of quantities consumed, details of the chemical reactions occurring, or approximate rates of pheromone production it would be illogical to surmise."

"Great," McCoy snapped. "So we're just going to glow are we?"

"Doctor, it must be apparent to you we do not glow all the time," Spock pointed out indelicately. McCoy flushed and pointed an accusatory finger at Spock.

"Don't go getting any funny ideas. It's damn likely to be an anger inducing pheromone like CVA or androstadienone," he declared. A horrified realisation occurred to him. "Dammit, Jim's never going to let us live this down. Hell! The whole crew's going to be having a field day with this!"

"The captain will of course have to be told but there is no necessity for the crew to be informed. It is of no danger or relevance to them."

"And how are we going to explain glowing each time we argue? Which in case you haven't noticed happens a lot!"

Spock looked pointedly at the forming red cloud.

"I was aware," he replied drily before quickly moving the conversation on. "I understood you had passed your biocontrol tests?"

McCoy blinked in surprise at the direction their talk had taken.

"Yeah, I passed them. That doesn't cover controlling pheromone production though. And how the hell do you know whether I passed them?"

"They are in you records, Doctor, to which I have access as First Officer. Given our frequency in working together it seemed logical to study your records so I was better prepared."

"Snooping is what that is," McCoy commented but let it go in favour of considering their current problem.

"I suggest we avoid each other," he decided. "Until we can work out a way to stop this glitter ball effect."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Do you feel that is necessary? The effect is not harmful and I should be able to control my own pheromones so it will in fact be halved."

"It may not be harmful but its damned embarrassing Spock. You being able to control it doesn't help me feel any less humiliated. If anything it'll make me feel worse."

"I certainly do not want to distress you Doctor," Spock conceded. "Very well. We shall work on a solution separately and communicate via comm."

"Great. Hopefully it'll wear off itself in a few days anyway."


	4. Bargaining

Avoiding each other, for the First Officer and Chief Medical Officer aboard Starfleet's flagship, proved far more difficult than expected.

Asides from times when their paths crossed accidentally there were inevitably occasions where they were both required.

Staff briefings for one, although McCoy tried very hard not to notice the Vulcan was even there. Spock for his part seemed able to exert Vulcan control over even his body's involuntary functions. McCoy vindictively hoped the effort tired him out although he showed no sign of it. McCoy was positively drained from holding his own emotions so firmly in check.

There were also sundry activities where the presence of both senior officers were required. McCoy was sick of people smiling as they asked if he was letting off steam.

And at the end of a week Bones was beginning to suspect the captain was enjoying their predicament too much.

McCoy himself was most certainly _not_ enjoying it. In fact it was probably the most hellish week he could remember.

It wasn't just the added tension of trying to avoid Spock – changing his mealtimes and routine to keep their paths from crossing – or the frustration of not being able to visit the bridge when things got slow in sickbay. It wasn't even the headache of keeping his focus from the Vulcan when they were in the same room… no it was the sheer fact that he _missed_ the man.

Although he didn't think he'd ever have admitted it, Spock was one of his best friends. He could always speak his mind with Spock knowing that he'd get an honest reply. It generally wasn't a reply he'd agree with but it helped reinforce his own thoughts. If he could successfully argue his case against the Vulcan then he knew his position was entirely valid. If Spock could pick his argument apart then it was probably as well to rethink.

There was no-one else on the crew with whom he could rail so emotionally either. Anyone else would either be swayed into his own emotional maelstrom or be turned away by it. Spock was a rock. An anchor. McCoy could rant at him full force for upwards of fifteen minutes and receive nothing but an eyebrow for his trouble yet he'd go away calmer.

Now he was trying to do without a coping mechanism that he hadn't even realised he needed. Christine was getting snappy with him, unwilling to put up with his short temper.

Strangely, he now appreciated there were the quieter moments between them that he never usually thought about or even realised happened. Especially when they were conducting research.

McCoy had worked on the problem in the medical labs while Spock had studied the problem in the science labs and, while they understood how the powder had integrated their bloodstream and bonded chemically to produce visible pheromones, there seemed no way to reverse that bonding. It was in Spock's words an irreversible reaction that they would likely have to wait out. That conversation had proved two things. Firstly that Spock was likely correct and secondly that the glitter effect could be produced even when communicating by comm.

McCoy had been mildly gratified to note that Spock had not anticipated that and thus had not been so rigorous in controlling his own reaction.

It was a short lived triumph.

So Bones was now slouched in his quarters wondering just how long they'd have to do this and beginning to regret suggesting it.

Surely just walking together to the messhall in the morning wouldn't cause too much embarrassment? And couldn't it be argued that the only way they'd ever purge the powder would be to hurry up the pheromone production, not suppress it?

When the room chimed he sat up with the hopeless thought that perhaps Spock had come to suggest the same thing.

"Come in," he called, even as his mind reminded him that Spock would be playing chess with Jim this evening.

It was to his great surprise then that he saw Jim in his doorway.

"Jim! What are you doing here? Thought you'd be getting beat at chess tonight." His warm smile dissolved into a worried frown. "Is Spock alright?"

"Fine, he's fine," Jim waved reassuringly and McCoy's eyes fixated on the bottle being waved in his direction. "He headed back to his quarters early and I thought you might appreciate a little company."

McCoy waved his own arm, gesturing Jim to make himself at home. In truth he was emotionally exhausted and couldn't really muster the energy to play host. Luckily, Jim knew him well enough to not be offended in the least and quickly got them both glasses.

After pouring two generous helpings Jim began again.

"Actually, I beat Spock for a change tonight."

McCoy arched an eyebrow.

"Something for your log," he drawled.

"He doesn't win all the time," Jim insisted briefly before taking a quick swallow. "But he did seem somewhat distracted tonight."

McCoy silently contemplated that piece of information, covering his thoughtfulness with a slow drink from his glass. He was aware of Jim watching him.

"Probably frustrated he can't pull a scientific miracle to prove me wrong about waiting out this Fesarian 'gift'," he suggested.

"I thought he'd suggested it was irreversible?"

"Yeah but I said we should wait it out."

Jim looked down and swirled the remainder of his drink.

"You still sure that's the best solution?"

McCoy hesitated.

He'd just been thinking about that very thing of course. But it was one thing to acknowledge a possible mistake to himself, a very different thing to admit it to anybody else. And McCoy had always been far too stubborn for his own good.

"The way I see it, if it weren't logical, Mister Spock would have already suggested trying something else."

"And what if Mister Spock just thinks he's being considerate of your emotional human needs?"

"He ain't ever been considerate of my emotional needs before."

"There's a first time for everything."

McCoy glared at Jim over the rim of his glass before aggressively downing it.

He wasn't even sure why he suddenly felt so angry. Except that he'd been tense the whole week and was bone tired now and it would be so easy if he could just stop fighting his own responses.

"Thanks for the drink Jim but I just really want to turn in now."

Jim seemed to contemplate saying something further but apparently realised it wasn't the time.

"Sure," he agree easily, rising casually. "Just… think about other options alright? You can't avoid each other indefinitely."

McCoy nodded vaguely and let Jim see himself out.

He knew the damn man was right. As captain he'd already bent the rules for them more than he perhaps should. But the only other option McCoy could think of meant admitting just what pheromones were involved here and why.

He wasn't sure he was ready to do that.

And it wasn't like Spock wouldn't have already analysed the human pheromones and drawn conclusions. Damn Vulcan wasn't mentioning that though for which McCoy was both immensely grateful and deeply crushed. It wouldn't be so bad if he could analyse the Vulcan sample the same way but there was no information anywhere he could trace of the chemical properties of Vulcan pheromones.

And asking Spock would just open the whole embarrassing subject.

McCoy dragged a hand over his tired face and dragged himself up. He'd best try and get a good night's rest.

Seemed like he'd have another day of avoiding the First Officer tomorrow.


	5. Depression

The captain seemingly had made other plans and Bones found himself summoned to the transporter room.

He was scowling as he strode into the room but Jim either didn't notice or more likely chose not to care.

"Finally. Time to get going doctor."

"May I ask where? Or even why?" McCoy didn't growl but only because there were ensigns present.

"Pollux V colony. Distress signal," the captain replied succinctly apparently hoping to speed things along.

He hadn't allowed for McCoy having a headache from lack of sleep.

"And you couldn't have taken Sanchez? Dammit Jim I only just got on duty! You know how I hate these contraptions." He shot the transporter a look, accidently catching sight of Spock and immediately bringing his eyes back, stamping down on any emotional reaction to the Vulcan.

"Bones," Jim used his official voice. "Asides from your name being top of the rota, you have far more surgical experience than Sanchez and that could be vital to any survivors we find. Ditto why we can't have a nurse. And you know M'Benga is still on sick leave himself following that bout of Therbian fever."

McCoy crossed his arms and purposely ignored Spock as he continued.

"And why d'ya need the First Officer?"

"I need my best Science Officer to try and work out just what exactly has happened down there. Now stop huffing and get on the platform."

McCoy recognised he was beat and stepped up beside the Captain.

"Energise," Jim announced.

Six figures dematerialised and rematerialised moments later on the planet's surface.

Jim gestured to security to fan out even as Spock and McCoy both began scanning.

"These readings are consistent with the expected level of technology," Spock reported briefly.

Jim nodded, relieved that it wasn't a more advanced race out to conquer the natives at least. That should simplify their humanitarian mission.

"Jim!" McCoy called as he picked up a signal. "I've got a survivor."

He hurried through the debris until he saw a prone figure. Jim helped the doctor clear the rubble and then waited as McCoy made his initial assessment.

"Damn. He's bleeding heavily."

The doctor forgot about everything except his patient in that moment as he cleared the wound and began sterilisation and sealing.

"Bones," Jim interrupted. "Can he talk? We need to find out what happened."

McCoy shook his head, still focused on finding and stopping the bleeding.

"He's in shock Jim. I daren't try and rouse him 'til I've stabi-"

The crack of a gunshot broke the doctor off midsentence.

Several things happened at once.

Jim spun to locate the shooter, drawing his phaser with one hand and flipping open his communicator with the other to summon back the security detail.

McCoy lurched forward over his patient who was now pierced through with a much more serious wound.

Spock turned and ran for them with a sudden cry of, "Doctor!" but it wasn't until the Vulcan skidded to his knees besides McCoy that Jim realised what had happened.

Spock pulled McCoy over onto his back and swiftly pressed his hands to the bleeding hole in McCoy's side.

"Damn! Bones!" Jim fretted next to them, unsure of how to immediately help. The arrival of security gave him a focus and he directed them to the nearby hillsides to scan for snipers.

When he looked back to his friends he was in control once more. Swiftly he pulled open his communicator again.

"Enterprise. Three to beam up, one in critical condition. Have a team from medbay meet us at the transporter room."

As they materialised on the ship, McCoy writhed.

"You must be still, Doctor," Spock instructed tensely.

"It hurts like a -" he broke off with a gasp of pain.

"You are fortunate in your human physiology," Spock spoke calmingly. "If you were a Vulcan that shot would have pierced your heart."

"You admitting… you got a heart Spock?" McCoy was struggling to breathe normally but focusing on the banter seemed to help.

"You of all people should know that I do, Doctor."

Jim blinked and wondered if the First Officer recognised the double meaning that could be construed from that sentence.

For his part McCoy smiled weakly but any reply was cut off by the arrival of Doctor Sanchez and Nurse Chapel with a stretcher.

In a flurry of activity the medical staff whisked their patient away leaving the captain and Spock behind.

Jim eyed his friend cautiously.

"You better go get yourself cleaned up Spock. I'll contact the rest of the away team."

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgment and left without a word.

Jim couldn't help the feeling of guilt over forcing McCoy onto the away team with them.

But he'd been so sure that getting Spock and Bones working together would break them out of their self-inflicted stalemate. They were both miserable, everybody could see that, but they were both too stubborn to admit they just plain missed each other.

He quickly dispatched a security team to join the two on the planet, with instructions to assess the situation and report, then he headed to sickbay.

It felt strange to sit in McCoy's office without the irascible doctor and Kirk moved to pace out in the main area. He was completing another turn when Spock stepped inside.

Neither spoke for a moment as Jim mentally glanced over his friend. Although the signs were well hidden on the Vulcan, it was clear he was concerned. Just his very presence here announced that.

"Is there any report on Doctor McCoy's condition?" he enquired.

Jim shook his head and continued his pacing. Spock's voice interrupted him again.

"He seemed to lose a lot of blood."

Jim stopped short.

It was an unusual statement for a Vulcan to make, stating the obvious, and conveyed the true depth of his worry.

Jim nodded in agreement but spoke comfortingly.

"He's a stubborn devil though. He won't give up easily."

"I believe he would refute the term 'devil'. Particularly when he could apply it to myself."

That drew a smile from Jim.

"That he would." He eyed his First Officer speculatively. "Nothing seems to make him happier than arguing with you," he suggested. "But he's too stubborn to admit that."

"It is a fault we both share, perhaps," Spock conceded. "I too, enjoy our debates."

Jim refrained from letting out a sigh of relief.

"I think you should tell him that when he's awake."

A crease of his brow depicted Spock's anxiety.

" _If_ he awakes," he amended.


	6. Acceptance

When Doctor Sanchez stepped out of surgery he was greeted by a tangible worried silence.

"He's going to be fine," he told them straight away. "The bullet did a lot of damage tearing through him but we checked for foreign material and fixed everything from the inside out. He lost a lot of blood which we've replaced and he should be good as new when he awakes."

"He's not awake yet?" Jim asked anxiously.

Sanchez looked slightly awkward.

"I gave him a strong sedative. It's been no secret he's not been getting half enough rest the last week. He needs the sleep as much as he needed the blood transfusion."

Jim nodded.

"Understood, Doctor. May we see him anyway?"

"Of course." He gestured them into the private room he'd installed McCoy in.

Jim went unhesitatingly to his side and looked him over.

He looked extraordinarily pale but otherwise seemed to simply be sleeping. Jim reached out a hand in an affectionate gesture and stroked back the doctor's hair. It was an act that ordinarily McCoy wouldn't let him get away with and Jim took some pleasure in it now.

He glanced back to see Spock was standing just to the side of the door.

"You can come closer you know," Jim teased, feeling playful with the relief. "He won't bite."

"I am aware of that," Spock responded. "However I prefer to observe from here."

Jim didn't press the issue and returned his focus to McCoy.

The older man's fatigue was evident and Jim couldn't fault Sanchez for taking advantage of the opportunity to give him some well needed rest.

He stroked his friend's hair a little longer, reassuring himself that McCoy was alive and well, before duty called and he headed for the door.

Spock however remained motionless.

"Spock?" Jim queried from the doorway.

"With your permission, Captain, I should prefer to stay here and await the doctor's awakening."

Jim tried very hard to hide his widening smile.

"Of course, Mister Spock," he replied in as formal a tone as he could muster. "Please inform me of Doctor McCoy's mental and emotional state once he's awake."

And so saying he left, knowing Spock would take that as an order and be unable to leave without actually talking to McCoy.

Spock considered the captain's words carefully, recognising the very strong hint that he should _talk_ to the doctor, and knowing precisely what it was the captain felt should be said.

It was at their last chess game that Spock had spoken of his attempts to find a solution to the Fesarian problem, not for his own sake, but because he believed it was affecting the doctor's efficiency. The captain had been of the opinion it was only a 'problem' if they continued to treat it as such.

When Spock pointed out that Doctor McCoy had made his emotions on the subject quite clear, Jim had suggested that perhaps Spock needed to do the same.

He had not readily understood but he thought he did now. Jim had not been referring to what McCoy _said_ , but what the scientific evidence told Spock. The very same evidence that Spock had denied McCoy.

McCoy shifted slightly and let out a long breath.

Spock stepped quietly forward, not wishing to wake him if he were resting, but the doctor's eyes immediately opened to look at him.

"Oh. It's you," he muttered before letting his eyes fall shut again.

Spock continued to the bedside and surveyed the human. There was no glow, not even a tinge of pink in his cheeks. Due to blood loss, Spock knew, yet it made it no less unpleasant to observe.

"I have never understood human regret," he spoke gently but determinedly. "If an action is logical then one will engage in it. If it is not then there is no purpose in it nor in regretting not doing it."

McCoy snorted quietly in exasperated amusement but didn't otherwise respond.

"Now however," Spock continued. "Now I believe I understand."

McCoy opened his eyes again and stared at the Vulcan. He didn't miss the green sparkle that hovered in the air around him.

"What do you understand?" McCoy sounded curious, if tired.

"I understood immediately the pheromones were not CVA – which is typically found in insects – nor likely to be androstadienone – which is synthesised."

McCoy's gaze had shifted away and was now focused on the far wall.

"I calculated a high likelihood the pheromone was in fact a form of estradiol." He watched a faint pink bloom in the doctor's cheeks.

"Do we have to do this now?" McCoy's voice was pitiful and ordinarily Spock would have complied with the injured man's wishes. But this was too important.

"The likelihood seemed confirmed when I examined my own sample to find it shared the same chemical structure."

McCoy's eyes came back to him.

"What are you saying?" He sounded genuinely confused and Spock realised he needed to be utterly clear.

"I am talking of not realising a possibility until it is too late," Spock explained. "Not seeing what should have been obvious…" He laid his hand cautiously atop McCoy's. The gesture was fairly innocent by human standards but unusually intimate for a Vulcan.

McCoy's eyes snapped down to the hand on his and he swallowed.

"You saying you'd have regretted not exploring… this phenomena… more… if I'd have died?" His accent was thick in his voice.

As he mentioned dying Spock's hand instinctively gripped more firmly but his voice was calm as he replied.

"If by 'this phenomena' you mean the obvious attraction we each feel, then yes."

McCoy's eyes widened at the surprising admission and a light shimmer of red glittered across him. A rush of unexpected relief flooded him.

"I feel something more than just attraction, Spock," McCoy admitted, to both himself and the Vulcan.

Spock stepped closer so his other hand could rest on the doctor's cheek. He carefully avoided the psi points but knew Leonard would recognise the pro-offered intimacy implicit in the gesture.

"Taluhk nash-veh k'dular," he murmured.

Leonard eyed him warily.

"That better mean you feel more for me too," he told him.

In reply Spock leant down and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead.

"It does," he confirmed.

McCoy sighed in pure contentment.

"You know, I didn't even know why I felt so frustrated?" he murmured.

Spock indulged himself and mimicked Jim's earlier gesture, smoothing Leonard's hair. To his surprise and private pleasure, the doctor seemed to welcome the gesture.

His eyes fell shut and Spock heard his breathing slow and lengthen.

Suddenly a human hand gripped his wrist and blue eyes flashed open in alarm.

"You won't disappear will you? Damn! This is some hallucination isn't it?"

Spock allowed his eyes to crinkle slightly in amusement.

"It is not a hallucination and I shall remain here to tell you again when you next wake."

Bright blue eyes searched his before tiredness overcame him again. Spock repeated the hair stroking until the doctor fell asleep again.

Then he sat by his bedside and resolved to study every aspect of Leonard's sleeping face.


	7. Epilogue

Kirk thought it a just example of McCoy getting a taste of his own medicine when Doctor Sanchez refused to let him leave his sickbay bed for the next three days. He didn't doubt that Bones could easily escape his own sickbay if he put his mind to it but fortunately he was provided with a sufficient incentive to stay.

Spock sat by his bedside every time he was off duty, often bringing in food so that they could eat together. If McCoy was asleep then Spock would sit quietly working on a PADD but if the doctor was awake then they would talk.

Or argue, however one chose to phrase it.

Jim had visited frequently and inevitably found them, sat amid a haze of green and red, unable to agree on an unimportant but immutable point of contention. They seemed so stubbornly set on disagreeing that Jim was absolutely certain the argument was a substitute for something else entirely.

Something impossible to even contemplate in sickbay.

And so Kirk found himself sat in his command chair actually wishing Sanchez would hurry up and release Bones for all their sakes.

The swish of the turbolift doors distracted him and he turned slightly to see who was joining them. A huge grin spread across his face as he saw McCoy practically bouncing onto the bridge.

"Bones!"

Spock turned immediately on hearing the captain and eyed the doctor with a distinctly unimpressed expression. This was belied by the sudden appearance of the by now familiar green halo.

"You are not due to leave sickbay for another 5.65 hours Doctor."

"Not disobeying your physician are you?" Jim added teasingly.

"No," McCoy replied with a smirk. "Unlike some people, I was a model patient and Sanchez agreed I could leave early so long as I promised to rest in my quarters."

"These are not your quarters," Spock pointed out.

McCoy's eyes sparkled mischievously as much as his glitter cloud.

"I decided to take a detour."

"This detour will have taken you 6.34 minutes out of your way. Not allowing for the time you remain here."

McCoy shrugged, unconcerned.

"You saying you aren't pleased to see me?" he queried.

"I did not say that," Spock hedged.

Their eyes locked and Jim would later swear he could see the haze around them darken perceptibly.

"Mister Spock," he announced with sudden determination. "Please escort Doctor McCoy to his quarters where he is supposed to be." Jim saw Bones open his mouth to protest and quickly added, "And use any means at your disposal to ensure he remains there for the next six hours at least."

McCoy grinned widely. Spock merely blinked before turning to the physician.

"Doctor?" He gestured towards the turbolift.

McCoy grinned impossibly wider and followed the unspoken direction.

"Whatever you say, my pointy eared paramour."

Jim heard several snickers around the bridge and couldn't stop his own smile from spreading. Spock of course was completely unfazed.

"I believe I shall hold you to that," he said precisely.

McCoy eyed him sideways as they stepped inside the turbolift.

"That sounds decidedly promising," he declared.

Thankfully the doors closed before anything more could be overheard. Jim eyed the remaining wisps of glittering haze and wondered how long that effect would last.

He decided that probably didn't matter as their newfound relationship would most certainly last much longer.

Particularly since they seemed determined to attempt to work as much of the powder out of their system as they could.

Smirking, he turned back to the viewscreen.

"Mr Sulu. Set our course for Cygnet XIV. I think we're overdue a little shore leave."


End file.
